There’s no substitute for time

Harry Middleton, who wrote books and essays mostly about fly fishing before dying too young, gave me an important lens through which I view travel. On the Spine of Time chronicled his numerous trips to western North Carolina rivers. He lost more trout than he caught, ruminated on the history of his surrounding, was forced into a tree by a rising river, and met a gallery of quirky characters who populate his book.

Each time I picked it up I had a vivid image of the world speeding past an oblivious Middleton who was focused on one small, fascinating corner of the world. The things he wrote about weren’t obvious; he needed time to tease out details. Middleton taught me that If you want to dive into a place as deeply as he did, there’s no substitute for time.

New places overwhelm and ask questions: Where are you going to go? What do you need to see? Is there time for all of it? Any of it? Do you understand?

Understanding a place only comes with time. Time spent watching, time spent asking questions, time spent thinking. That’s why even when I feel the need to experience something new, I love to return to places I’ve been before. So I can watch, ask and think. That where I find value in travel – getting to know places in ways that a quick stop can’t allow.

I’ll leave you with a quote from Middleton, from The Earth is Enough:

“It’s been said that we pass through life with a diminishing portfolio of enthusiasms. My problem is having had so many to start out with. Now, at the age of fifty-six, I have painting, my four beautiful children, fly casting, writing, friends, wing shooting, printing, family and extended family, cooking, and Marusia, the light of my life, not at all necessarily in that order. The problem, if you want to call it that, is there is no time left for things that don’t matter. Years ago, after watching someone waste endless hours on some pointless project, Tom McGuane observed that the fellow obviously believed the average human lifetime to be ten thousand years. I’m treating it as if there were less than a minute to go.”

Here’s to using time wisely.

Adventure Cycling

I can’t even recall where I saw it, but I came across a link offering a free membership to Adventure Cycling. Coincidentally, a friend had just told me that she’s joining their Underground Railroad tour this summer, so I put my name in, and soon received a membership packet.

Today my first issue of Adventure Cyclist arrived in the mail. There’s a particularly interesting article about touring and eating in Italy. Looks to be right up my alley.

A different kind of weekend

I skipped riding this weekend so I could travel over to Fontana Village with the VeloWife so she could check out Minis on the Dragon. We’d scored a reservation at the Tapoco Lodge; leaving Greensboro after work on Friday meant arriving at the Lodge middle of the evening.

Saturday morning had an ugly look to it — lots of storm clouds were brewing. We ate breakfast and drove to Fontana to register (the event actually started Wednesday, so we were dropping in on the tail end of it). We were scheduled to be in the group panoramic photo so I gave the car a quick wash while the VW supervised, then we scooted over to Fontana Dam. After waiting in a long line of Minis we were directed to our spot in the group, and then we waited some more. By then the rain had started to fall. After what seemed like an hour of getting wet, the photos were finished and we were on our way.

On our way was supposed to involve hooking up with the Ice Cream Run. The rain had scattered the group, so were made our best guess of where we might find the other cars, drove that way, and quickly realized we had figured right:

Within a few minutes we were tucked into a long line of Minis, making our way along Highway 28 toward Bryson City.

After lunch and a cup of coffee we headed back toward Fontana, with a quick side trip down the Dragon’s Tail and back. There, we talked to vendors, sat on a porch and enjoyed a beer, and waited for the evening dinner to start at 5 PM.

Dinner is where I learned the difference between organizers of bicycling events and organizers of driving events. The former would never, never, never screw around with anything having to do with food. Unless they wanted a riot.

The latter group, in this case, announced that a mistake had been made and dinner wasn’t going to arrive until 7 PM. No problem. We chatted with a couple seated across from us and bided our time. But then the appointed hour came, and rather than moving us expediently through the buffet line, the announcer forced us to play a game to see who got to eat first. I said to the VeloWife, “I’d enjoy seeing him pull this shit on a crowd at a bike ride.”

“Why?”

“Because they’d probably kill and eat him, just for starters.”

This was a not-so-surly crowd, though, and we got through dinner without any violence. We skipped the after-dinner announcements and headed back to our cabin.

Today’s schedule? Sleep in, eat breakfast, and enjoy a leisurely drive home. Fun? The VeloWife thought so: